


whitespire

by peacefrog



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Play, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 21:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19118080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: “No,” Eliot said, rising to his feet when he saw Quentin beginning to undress. “I want you just like that today. Come here and help me with these buttons.”This was their game. Quentin crossed to where Eliot stood and ran his fingers down the buttons of his doublet. He’d watched Eliot preen in the mirror that morning, making himself perfect, putting on his brocade armor piece-by-piece. And now here Quentin was stripping it away. It made his belly twist and his cock stir between his legs. He popped open the first button and worked his way down the line.“Blue is your color,” Eliot said, shrugging out of his top layer and holding out his wrists for Quentin to get at his cuffs. “I think we’ll have more things made for you in just that shade. Maybe with silver to match your crown. What do you think?”This was their game. Quentin swallowed, popping open a cuff and meeting Eliot’s eyes. “If that is what you desire, Your Majesty.”





	whitespire

**Author's Note:**

> This probably takes place in an alternate universe. This may or may not be a mix of show and book Queliot. I don't know. Enjoy the smut.

Quentin had let Eliot dress him that morning to his liking, and not for the first time. Silk organza in shades of blue and gold. A high collar that tickled the back of Quentin’s neck. A brocade jerkin with buttons of real gold. Leather boots that reached his knees, with spats on top that had been embroidered with delicate gold thread and tiny pearls. Eliot had even pinned his hair back before placing his crown on his head.

“You’re beautiful,” Eliot had whispered, standing behind Quentin in front of the long mirror, “King Quentin.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Quentin had gone away blushing. He didn’t care who might see. This was their game, and no one else in all of Fillory was more adept.

They spent their morning in the throne room, hearing petitions and worrying over taxes and a dozen other things that made Quentin feel lazy and bored. By the afternoon the work of kings was finished, and they lounged in their thrones drinking sweet wine from heavy goblets and talking about their lives before.

“Do you miss it?” Eliot asked. “Brakebills. Earth. Our friends.”

They hadn’t been home in three years. “No,” Quentin said, and he meant it. “I dream about them sometimes.”

Eliot hummed and sipped his wine. He smirked at Quentin with his wine-stained lips. His fingers played delicately around the rim of his goblet. This was their game, and King Quentin was the reigning champion.

“Everyone,” Eliot announced after a long beat of silence, “King Quentin and I would like to be left alone. We have… important strategy to discuss. I hear the Floaters might be at this very minute breaching our defenses to the south.”

Tick gave a tight smile and clasped his hands together. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said, and began to usher the rest of the court from the room. He closed and barred the heavy doors behind them.

Every member of their royal court knew what they were up to. Quentin didn’t care. If nothing else, it guaranteed they were certain not to be interrupted. If anyone saw it didn’t matter. _Let all of Fillory see,_ Quentin thought, setting down his goblet and pulling himself up from his throne. _Let them see the way their High King should be served._

“No,” Eliot said, rising to his feet when he saw Quentin beginning to undress. “I want you just like that today. Come here and help me with these buttons.”

This was their game. Quentin crossed to where Eliot stood and ran his fingers down the buttons of his doublet. He’d watched Eliot preen in the mirror that morning, making himself perfect, putting on his brocade armor piece-by-piece. And now here Quentin was stripping it away. It made his belly twist and his cock stir between his legs. He popped open the first button and worked his way down the line.

“Blue is your color,” Eliot said, shrugging out of his top layer and holding out his wrists for Quentin to get at his cuffs. “I think we’ll have more things made for you in just that shade. Maybe with silver to match your crown. What do you think?”

This was their game. Quentin swallowed, popping open a cuff and meeting Eliot’s eyes. “If that is what you desire, Your Majesty.”

“You’re what I desire.” Eliot’s eyes had gone wide and dark. He thumbed at Quentin’s lips.“I desire this.”

The waiting was the agony. Quentin wanted to drop to his knees right there and swallow Eliot down, but that wasn’t part of the game. The rules said that Quentin had to take his time. Eliot wouldn’t have him any other way.

Quentin stripped off Eliot’s shirt, removed his jewelry bit-by-shining-bit, helped him out of his spats and his boots. His erection tented the front of his breeches and Quentin could hardly resist. He ran a hand delicately over the curve of it and Eliot caught him by the wrist.

“That’s cheating,” Eliot drawled. “Your High King demands patience from all his subjects. Even those that happen to be… lesser kings.”

This was their game. Arousal pulsed in Quentin’s blood like a fever. “Forgive me, Majesty.”

Quentin’s hands shook as he peeled away Eliot’s bottom layers. Breeches, hose, braies. And when he was bare of everything save for his crown Eliot turned on his heel and sauntered back to his throne, spread his legs wide and took his goblet in his hand.

Eliot sipped his wine lazily. “Have you come to me today with some petition, King Quentin?”

It was like something out of one of his teenage wet dreams, the sight before him. He didn’t understand how he’d gotten this lucky. How was this his life? A strand of hair had slipped free from Eliot’s crown and fell into his eyes. His cock was hard and leaking against his belly.

“Yes.” The word slipped from Quentin’s lips breathlessly. “Yes, my King.”

“Go on.” Eliot gave his cock a single stroke from root-to-tip and Quentin’s mouth began to water. “You’re in luck. I’m feeling quite generous today.”

Quentin stepped forward and dropped to his knees. “Your Majesty, I am so hungry. I’ve been starved.” Tears pricked at Quentin’s eyes. He wanted so terribly. He couldn’t stand it a moment longer. “Please, Your Majesty, I beg of you. Will you allow me to dine at your table?”

This was their game. Eliot spread his legs wider, smiled with his hooded eyes. “Oh, King Quentin, I would never deny a subject as loyal as you a spot at my table. You may come forward and fill your belly.”

It took every ounce of Quentin’s willpower not to pounce, but he knew the rules. He pulled off his own crown and tossed it to the floor with a heavy clank, then began to crawl toward Eliot on his hands and knees.

It was a short distance to cross, and when Quentin arrived he pressed a kiss to the top of each of Eliot’s feet. “Your Majesty is most generous,” he said, his voice trembling. He pressed a kiss to each of Eliot's hands. 

Eliot pulled the pin from Quentin's hair and let it fall down to his shoulders, threaded his fingers in it and tugged. “Go on,” he purred. “Get to it. Your food is getting cold.”

Quentin parted his lips and let Eliot guide him down onto his cock, opening to him like a flower to the sun. Eliot bunched Quentin’s hair in his tight fists and rocked his hips, thrusting up into Quentin’s greedy mouth, slipping into his throat. Eliot’s composure started to crack. He made such beautiful sounds. Quentin gagged and Eliot pulled him roughly back by his hair.

“Too much?” Eliot asked, chest heaving, the jewels of his crown glinting in the sun-washed room.

“Not enough.” Quentin licked his lips. “More. Please. Don’t stop.”

This was their game. Eliot would always ask the same thing. Quentin’s answer never changed, and Eliot always controlled the pace. When Eliot pushed back into Quentin’s mouth it was like a miracle. He couldn’t ask for more than this, could only ask that it never end. Their bodies moved in a practiced dance. Eliot hands, Eliot’s cock, Quentin’s mouth. There was only this. Quentin gripped Eliot’s hips and allowed himself to be used.

This was their game. Eliot bottomed out in Quentin’s throat and cried out his broken song. Quentin had never felt more beautiful, more desired, more adored. Eliot tugged him off and Quentin lavished his balls with his tongue while Eliot stroked himself lazily.

“Fuck, Q. Fuck.” Eliot’s last shreds of composure fell away and shattered, and now he was just a man. The man that Quentin loved. “Do you know what you do to me? Do you have any idea at all?’’

Quentin shoved Eliot’s hands away and seized control, licked up the underside of Eliot’s cock before taking him back between his lips. He could feel Eliot’s thighs trembling beneath him and knew that he was close. Eliot gripped the arms of his throne and thrust up once, lazily, then again, and cried out so loudly that it echoed across the room. Quentin imagined it rippling through all of Whitespire, the symphony of their love.

Eliot came with pulsing heat into Quentin’s mouth, and Quentin swallowed him down greedily, feasting on his desire. He didn’t waste a single drop, wouldn't dream of it. When he was through he let Eliot’s softening cock slip from his mouth and crawled up into Eliot’s lap in the throne.

Eliot laughed with his eyes shut and a smile on his lips, his body slick with sweat and his heart rattling his chest. “Your King… is very… very pleased with your performance. At the tournament today.”

Quentin kissed Eliot’s blushing cheek. “This was a tournament?”

“Oh, yes, King Quentin. And you are my champion.”

Quentin smiled and buried his face in Eliot’s neck, his own arousal some distant, unimportant thing. “I love you, you know,” he whispered. “So goddamn much, El.”

“I know, Q.” Eliot pressed a kiss into Quentin’s hair. “Now how about you let me prove just how much I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> So if you follow me on tumblr you know I've been devoting all of my writing time since late April to writing a long season one au, but I woke up this morning and this was just screaming to get out of my brain. I hope you all enjoyed, and now back to the season one au I go.


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